Rune Songs: The Collected Short Stories of Eric Northman
by Melusine10
Summary: Upon his maker's urging, Eric Northman has kept a diary from his earliest days. Curl up and read his short stories and recollections. Rated M for very mature content and language; Eric/Godric pairing initially. Scenario challenges/suggestions welcome!
1. You don't look so good

**_Circa 750 C.E._**

A few small fires scattered the battlefield providing enough light for my men to finish cutting down the last of our enemies. The cries of agony and the sound of metal ringing out upon metal were slowly dying down. Smoke and sweat stung my eyes as I leaned into the hilt of my sword, thrusting every last bit of my weight into its target. Ulrike cried in shock. Entirely possessed by the need to kill this loathsome, spindly coward, I kept pushing. Down, down, down, until I felt my fingers slip into the hot watery wound in his chest. I'd driven my sword, Grendl, deep into the sandy soil beneath him, pinning him to the earth like an insect.

I cannot know what came over me then. Refusing to break our locked gaze, I took hold of Grendl with my left hand and let the sputtering traitor watch as I licked his foul blood off my swordhand and spat it at his face.

"To Hel with you, Ulrike! You leave no heirs. You leave no memories. You depart this world without honor. You are nothing," I whispered to him, inches from his glassy eyes.

The searing bite of a blade between my thighs was so sudden, I doubt I even gasped. Ulrike coughed, blood spattering from his mouth. And then he was dead. The weapon that had just brought the hammering blow of justice down on my father's murderer was now unexpectedly a crutch. I held myself up against it, glancing down briefly to see just how bad he'd gotten me. Blood pulsed down the inside of my right thigh. I laughed. Never once had I doubted whether the cost of revenge would be great. I knew a high price was to be paid.

I quickly looked across the field to my brothers.

_Forgive me, Grendl, I must leave you_.

I abandoned my sword and stumbled in the stiff grass. Each step sent more blood gushing out of the heinous wound and my vision started to blur. I tried calling out to Leif and Asvald, but I could not make a sound issue from my mouth. The last thing I remember was the ground reaching up to punch me hard in the face and the earth whirling top over end.

Woozy sounds of a voice drifted around me and I was floating. Someone was giving me deliciously ice cold ale and I swallowed it down greedily. I couldn't stop myself; it was the sweetest drink that had ever touched my lips. I drank like a dying man. Somewhere in the back on my head I knew this was because I _was_ a dying man. The coolness spread over my body, numbing the horrific pain that wracked every inch of my body. _I am dying!_ I thought. _I am dead! _I wanted desperately to see. I wanted to see Valhalla. I managed to open my eyes; it took the force of a hundred men to raise those soft lidded gates onto the world. All I could see was the sky – the beautiful swirling night sky.

A shining, iridescent boy suddenly looked over me.

"You don't look so good."

The words of the boy enraged me. I had never seen a creature such as he before – strange tattooed markings covered his skin and his hair was matted into long locks. My stiff fingers flexed, trying to find my sword. But no, I remembered. I'd left her in the fucker that killed me. Too weak to pull her from the ground. I felt my heart ache.

The boy disappeared from view between my thighs. I could feel him touching my flank strangely with cold slithery caresses.

Pushing my chest together with great effort, I found my voice, albeit a croaking hiss. "May dogs eat you! I'll defile your mother, you filthy bastard, and your sisters too! Fiend! Devil!"

He popped back into sight, his mouth smeared in blood. It was then I saw he had two long knives for teeth.

"I am no devil, child. I am Death."

I laughed. "Death? You're just a little boy! Bring me my sword you fucker of pigs; I'll show you death…"

He threw his head back, shaking it in amusement.

Seeing the golden firelight reflecting off his unnaturally pale face and those bloody, gleaming fangs, cold horror ran through me.

"Death!"

He nodded.

The realization shocked me. Death. The weight of my life's events suddenly felt final. That was all there would be. It was done. I'd never sleep my wife or laugh with my children again. I'd not see the snow fall on Uppsala during the midwinter fest, nor walk through my fields, satisfied that my labors would feed my people. I felt this sadness begin to choke my throat, but I refused to give this trickster the pleasure of seeing my weakness.

"If I had known you were a boy I would have fought more bravely and fucked twice as much!"

"I have never seen a man fight as fiercely or as bravely as you. It was a glorious thing to behold."

I was stunned. "You saw?"

He nodded and grinned fiercely at me, stroking my face in a paternal gesture.

"Could you be my companion? Could you forsake the day and walk the nights with Death?"

"What gain is there in it for me?" I blurted out.

He howled and thumped his fist against wood. It was only then that I realized we were still in Midgard, the human world. And the wood around us was one of our small landing boats. I was laying upon my funeral pyre.

I blinked to clear my eyes, my vision blurred and slipping. The boy leaned closer to me and whispered,

"Eternal life, my child. Eternal life."

And in an instant he had disappeared.

-OOO-

I cannot say how long I lay there immobile on the hard planks of the boat. The rolling surf crept slowly towards my deathbed in foamy sweeps. Up the sandy bank of the shoreline, I could hear my men laughing and singing around a fire. No one came to check whether I was yet dead and the sea breeze chilled me to the bone. I longed for someone to cover me in a fur, but I hadn't the strength to call out. My brothers in arms were drunk and reciting praise poems in my honor. They made me think of my father in the magnificent halls of Valhalla and I felt at peace with my deeds. This was a good death. An honorable death.

For hours, I waited to see if the strange young man would return. He did not come and exhaustion finally took hold of me. But my sleep was haunted by bizarre, twisting dreams. Someone shook me, jostling the images away.

"Eirikr! You live among us still!" The midday light filtered through a grey pall of low hanging clouds over my brother Leif's shoulder.

"Brother," I said hoarsely.

He began to shout excitedly, calling for small beer and porridge. I tried to take a little to please him, but it tasted of ash in my raw throat.

"Leif, take the men up the coast and reclaim Kings Hall. The throne is yours. Please care for Astrid and the children. Tell them all - Thorson especially - they have always made me proud. I know Thorson will bring honor to the family."

"We aren't leaving you behind, you damned fool!"

"No. No. You must."

"Eirikr, you have won, Ulrike is slain! Here. Here is Grendl, she served you well." He put my hand on top of our father's sword. Someone had cleaned it and placed it alongside my body.  
"Your wounds are many, but by some miracle this one here – the worst - has closed. You may live long yet!

"I cannot return. The God of Death has visited me."

"You madman! You are _alive_!"

"He came to me, Leif, a real god! He wants me to go with him. You will leave me here if you love me. Return if you wish in nine days time. If I am gone then you will know I have joined Death."

"These are the tricks of Loki!"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. I shall see what fate brings."

My brothers and men had laughed at me, saying I must be drunk on the blood of my enemies. Did I not taste Ulrike's blood, they teased!? My mouth was crusted with blood, as though I'd feasted on the fellow! Only Eirikr of Åsaviðr would win back his rightful crown only to say there was yet another adventure to begin. Lesser men, they said, would be happy to grow fat and lazy and do nothing but eat, drink, and spill seed in women all day.

They left me on that coast, joking thusly and offering casual well wishes, saying they would see me soon. I could not explain it, but I knew these would be our last words. To this day I remember the expression on Leif's face as the longboat pushed offshore, growing smaller and smaller in the horizon. He gave me a little saluting wave with two fingers and a loving smile, not really believing he was going home to lead our lands so soon. He was a loyal brother and my closest friend in life. I never saw him again.

Now alone, I tried to pass the time by singing snatches of old tunes. I inspected as much of my body as was visible, I could see that some of the gashes had been quite deep. I'd shouldered several horrible blows and many superficial ones, but none were as vicious as Ulrike's stab wound into the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. The flesh had knitted partially together by some sorcery and oozed angrily with foul pus. Too weak to venture out of my little boat and afraid that wild animals would be glutting themselves on the remains in the battlefield uphill, I cast rune stones in my lap, snacked on dried fish, and even counted the gulls circling over head. I waited for Death, napping on and off, trying to reserve what little strength I had left. I did not know if he would still want me to accompany him if I could not walk far. Where would we go? What did he want me to do for him? So many questions burned in my mind, but I tried to remain calm. I braced myself for the possibility that this creature was indeed some kind of trickster demon. Several times I confirmed that there was still enough vigor in my sword arm to fight him if necessary. I waited and waited. Finally, I grew so restless that I upturned the boat and sat atop it, wasting the last of my energy, telling myself that I'd be damned if I laid there in a deathbed like a marooned codfish.

It happened that late that night, I heard the splashing footsteps of someone far down the beach. It was too dark to see anything more than a shadowy movement. Unsure whether to call out to the stranger, I began to sing an old song.

_Cattle die and kinsmen die__  
__Death looks my way_  
_And I too shall die_  
_But I know a thing that never dies_  
_The fame of the honored dead_

_I see the hearth-fire burning_  
_A dead man at the door__  
__Lo it is my father, 'tis each sister and my mother_  
_Tis me, I see at last_  
_And each and all my brothers_

_Death nears and I wait__  
__Hail friend, we greet in tiding_  
_May Odin guide us_  
_To Valhalla_  
_With glory, honor, always viking _

Within a few minutes, the figure drew closer and I could make out the eerie glow of pale skin and the thick spiky hair of the boy I'd seen before. He walked up to me, hands buried in the pockets of the leather leggings he wore.

"You came," I said in astonishment.

"You lived." He had a wry smile snaked across his face. In a flash he hopped atop the boat and sat next to me.

"Are you not cold? Take my fur…" I went to unclasp the thick pelt from my shoulders.

"No need. I feel neither cold nor heat." He tilted his head in curiosity. "I see you are generous as well as ferocious. What is your name?" He grinned, but his sharp teeth were gone. Had I dreamt them?

"I am Eirikr of Åsaviðr, son of King Ragnar, himself the son of Thorbjörn the Wise."

He nodded. "A prince of God's Tree. This is the meaning of Åsaviðr, no?" He had a slight lilting accent and pronounced the Norse with care.

"Yes. Those are my homelands, not two days north by strong wind from here."

"Soon all the world shall be yours. Most simply call me Death, but you may call me Godrik."

I nodded. "That is a strong name, though I have never heard it in the Sagas."

"I am older than your Sagas, child. In my ancient tongue, my name means 'god ruler.'"

"Over which gods do you have power?"

"None. We are not gods, but creatures of the night - blood drinkers, bringers of death, unbound by time or age."

"I must tell you that I have always done the sacrifices to our gods and ancestors dutifully, but I have never served another nor bent my knee."

The boy laughed and clapped me on the back. "Of course you haven't! Do you think this is what I wish of you, to be my slave?"

"I do not know your wishes, sir."

"We will be each other's father, brother, and son. Come now, it reeks of death here, as do you. Let us leave this place and begin."

"Are we to go far?"

"I will carry you."

"No," I said sharply. I slid off the boat to stand. As soon as I make the movement I knew it had been in vain and there was nothing left in my legs. Before crumpling to the ground, humiliated, he jutted a hand under my arm faster than I could see and it held me up like a stone pillar.

"Foolish, proud boy," he said, clucking his tongue at me. I went to protest, but he snatched Grendl from me, then grabbed me tightly.

"Hold on."

In an instant, wind tore at my hair and tunic. I twisted around to get my bearings and realized we were speeding through the air like a comet, my legs kicking at nothing. The landscape zipped in a blur beneath us and I felt Godrik laughing against my side.

After traveling what must have been a tremendous distance, he changed course and we began dropping out of the sky. Moments before I thought we would crash, he slowed us and landed softly on a mossy forest floor near a rocky outcropping.

"In there."

Under the canopy of whispering conifer trees, it was too dark for me to see what he meant. He hucked me over one shoulder as though I was no heavier than a sack of potatoes and walked a few lengths into a cave before setting me down on what felt like a pile of furs. I could hear his echoing footsteps shuffling around, then the sounds of iron clanking on stone. The dull orange glow of an ashy pile of embers was revealed. The boy blew on them, dropping bits of fuzzy tinder and then small twigs until the flame caught.

"Can you manage this? We'll need it hot. I'll be back shortly."

Dragging myself over to the tiny fire, I added more kindling into it until it could see a stack of wood nearby. I was quickly panting with exhaustion from the simple action of rummaging through the logs trying to pick out nicely cured pieces of ash. Once the blaze was really going, I tossed in a small stick of fir for its aromatic quality. I'd always preferred my home fires this way.

The heat felt amazing on my skin and damp clothing. Soon I heard Godrik padding back into the depths of the cave. He'd brought pails of water. Tossing even more wood on the hearth, he lifted a huge iron pot with a single hand and casually set it on a chain over the licking flames.

I raised an eyebrow in awe and he chuckled at my expression.

"Come. Let's get this off you." He tugged at the sleeves of my chainmail, then helped with the lacing on my boots. It was stiff with caked mud and blood.

"Thanks."

"Hmm," he hummed. "Your tunic is not going to be as easy."

"No?"

"No. It's dried into a gash on your back. I think I can see bone. It's a wonder your legs still work at all. Let's wait until the water is warm."

"What do you mean to do?"

"Tonight? We shall prepare your body for immortality."

"Oh," was all I could say to this.

He withdrew a pouch from his waist and sprinkled lavender into the heating cauldron. He stirred it with a hand, as if the heat could not touch him.

After some time, I could see steam coiling of the waters' surface.

He dipped his palm in it and held it out to me.

"How is this?"

"Warm, but not nearly hot enough to begin a potion. Is there not some sister who might help you cook?"

"We're not making witches brew here, fool. I'm going to wash the stench off you! I'd rather you not freeze to death in the process."

"You are heating the water?" I asked curiously.

"It is commonly done in more sophisticated places in the world. Trust me, it will be better than your icy dips." With that he pulled the cauldron off the fire. It was too amazing a feat for me to comment upon. Such an act would have melted flesh; even cold those damnable pots took several strong women to handle.

Godrik dipped a wooden bowl into the fragrant water and beckoned me towards him. He snatched the furs from underneath and tossed them aside. His movements were utterly untamed and lightening fast, yet the next minute he would be still as a stone. It was dizzying to witness.

"Kneel down. We'll start from the top." He handed me a jagged cube of soap and pushed my head down. I scrubbed my face and hair while he poured, then chest and arms. I couldn't help crying out as the soapy water ran through my cuts and gashes.

"No. Don't avoid them; clean them well. Here…" he tossed several more large logs into the fire. "Now…You'll be able to see clearly. I will heal anything you don't wish to wear as a scar for all eternity. Then we'll trim your hair and nails as you want them. It will all be set as in stone, Eirikr, once you are turned."

"How is this done?" I whispered.

"With my blood."

I flinched backwards on my heels, stunned.

"Ha, so now you are squeamish about blood?"

"No!" I retorted.

"You are bloodthirsty even in life. Trust me, you will not be disappointed in death."

He stepped around behind me. "Let's work on this shirt." He dipped the bowl again and poured hot streaks down back. The searing pain that suddenly took hold of me made me was so great that I pitched forward and vomited. He'd narrowly avoided the mess and held me with a single, crushing hand.

"That's okay. It'll be worse before it is better." Opening his mouth, those knife-like teeth dropped down and he bit into his wrist.

"Drink."

"Huh?"

"Drink quickly before it closes." He shoved a cold, bloody wrist into my mouth. The thick liquid hit my tongue and I immediately moaned and started sucking at the wound. It was that same life saving ale I'd tasted before. I realized now that no one had brought me beer – it had been Godrik's blood which I'd tasted. It was sweet and perfumed my senses. The heady substance quickly had me gasping, it was so delicious. It bore little resemblance to the hot, watery tin that poured through a man's veins.

I never felt his hand creep down to the edge of my tunic, but I certainly knew when he tore it off. I doubt I screamed so horribly when I received the blow. There was no hiding my weakness now. He was at my back then, doing something to the wound, much like he'd done to the gash in my flank. The flesh tingled, almost like inhaling quickly after chewing peppermint leaves.

"Drink again." I heard him crunch into his arm again and he held it to my face. I didn't hesitate; I sucked hard at the bite it elicited a deep groan from him. His blood was divine elixir, I felt stronger at every pull.

"Alright. Finish washing. Can you see? Shall I add more wood to the fire?"

"I'm battle-worn, not blind," I retorted.

"Of course," he laughed at me, ignoring my stubbornness.

He inspected me then more closely than anyone had ever done. Though I've never been shy about my body, it felt strange to be looked over so thoroughly for imperfections.

"Do I pass?" I joked.

He snorted and stood back, tapping a finger on his nose in contemplation. He then bit the pad of his thumb and began tracing over each cut and abrasion on me. I watched as they miraculously disappeared.

"Your blood is magic!"

"Aye. This here," he pointed to a place on my hip. "This scar is especially nasty. Shall I fix it?"

I shrugged. "Sure. It was a burn from when I was a child."

Godrik knelt down and glanced up at me. Then much to my surprise, he sunk his fangs into the spot.

"Ow! Fuck!" I tried to push him away, but I would have had better luck moving a mountain.

He chewed and sucked at the skin with closed eyes, then slowly licked at the wound, making it heal. The flesh sealed over and he worked more of his blood into it until it was a flawless, smooth expanse of skin. He repeated this action several more times, perfecting and beautifying my body.

When he'd at last finished, he pulled out a very fine pair of shears and a comb to trim my shoulder length hair and even out my nails. It felt odd being attended to this way. But then, my people had our ways of preparing bodies before burial too. They just usually weren't still alive for it.

"Your beard is a shaggy mess."

"I cut it short for battle. It never grows out evenly."

"How shall I do it then? It won't ever grow longer than how we cut it tonight."

"Cut it close. That way I will always be ready for war."

He nodded and began snipping at it. While he focused on his task, I took in the details of his face for the first time. Like me, he had the high, strong cheekbones and almond eyes of a man from the north country. If it hadn't been so filthy and matted into dreadlocks, I could tell his hair would be a lustrous golden brown. His sensuous mouth was full and shaped like a bow. Though nothing about him struck me as gentle, his eyes were soft and fringed in long lashes. They were a stormy blue green and his pupils were ringed in a sage color. Rather like the sea, I thought. I found myself fascinated with the dark blue collar tattooed around his neck and the bands encircling this biceps, but I didn't dare risk offending him.

"Marks of honor," he said, sensing the question in my roving eyes. "There. That will do." He handed me the bowl to wash off the stray whiskers, and I inspected his handicraft in the reflection of the water.

"Not bad," I remarked.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better. Stronger." I felt like Hel warmed over, but I thought it better not to let on.

Godrik dusted off my fur stole and put it around my shoulders, then tossed me a little satchel.

"Dried fruits?" I wondered aloud, pouring its contents in my hand.

"Eat that tonight, but nothing after the sun rises, only water. No more of those foul little fish, understand?" he smirked. I'd never even realized he'd snitched my food pouch off my belt. "Your body is going to reject all the human fluids in you. The less there is to come out, the better for both of us. I will return tomorrow night at sundown and we shall truly begin."

"Where are you going?"

"To rest for the day. Say your goodbyes to the sun, for it is the last time you shall ever see it. Stay close and don't get yourself killed while I'm gone." He winked, then disappeared.


	2. I know a thing that never dies

**A/N: **Please review!

* * *

The sun could not have set more slowly the following evening. I watched it set through the trees, but felt no particular remorse as it disappeared from sight. Ulrike had certainly not shown me any such courtesies when he tried to relieve me of my life. I should have died already without any goodbyes to the sky or my brethren were it not for my strange new friend. If indeed I could call the demon boy a friend.

When Godrik returned, I felt tremendously relieved. Still too ill to wander far, I had been left yet again with my unsteady thoughts. A weak and creeping concern had nagged me all day. Perhaps he would change his mind and abandon me in that dank cave. Yet as before, he found me. Godrik strolled in casually without acknowledging me and set down an armload of clothing. Not being one to waste wood, the fire I'd made was modest. He glanced at it with a small disapproving frown and chucked more fuel onto it before joining me where I sat in a bed of furs.

"Good evening, child."

"Hello."

"You look well."

"I'm not dead, if that's what you mean."

"No, indeed. Not dead. Yet." He watched the fire for a long moment and chewed at his cheek. "Eirikr, there is doing a thing…and then there is doing a thing well. Do you appreciate the difference?"

"Of course."

"We shall do this thing well. We must do it right."

I nodded eagerly. "Tell me what to do."

All day I'd wondered what would happen to me. Even in my wilder and more morbid imaginings, I could not have even begun to anticipate how the transformation would come about.

He looked at me then with pain in his eyes and stroked my cheek. His gaze unfixed and his pupils bored into my very mind. "No matter what, you must not give over to death too soon. No matter how painful, how desperate you are, how much you beg, you mustn't let it win. You will struggle, you will fight, and you will _not _let your heart cease beating until I decide the moment. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Godrik," I replied, entirely under his spell.

He caressed my face, pushing my golden hair away from my neck. I saw his fangs descend and he ran a tongue over them. Godrik embraced me, nuzzling my neck and inhaling deeply, as if committing my scent to memory. He kissed my throat and licked it, sending a thrill of anxious excitement up my spine. Then I felt the pressure of his teeth and a searing sting that sent me gasping. He moaned loudly and growled, sucking up my life. I started to feel lightheaded and then a woozy tilt sent the shadowy walls spinning around me. Godric held me with an arm around my back and another fisting my hair and he let me fall back gently, still glutting himself on my blood. Darkness slid over my eyes and I tried to tell him he was killing me, but my disembodied voice came out as a gurgled, strangling sound. There was no point. I passed out.

Consciousness crept in. I felt the cool, sluggish blood of my companion sliding down my throat.

"Drink now. Take me into you." I stirred, feeling ravenous. His ambrosia sent a fiery electricity through me. "Yes, that's it," he guided. I sucked on the wound, pulling his cool blood into my mouth.

He moaned a whisper into my ear. "Don't let it close. Keep drinking." I understood his meaning. His body healed almost immediately.

I did as he ordered and dug my blunt teeth into his flesh. As I drank, raw power zinged through my limbs and my hunger grew.

I do not know how long I lay there slurping upon his youthful fount. Finally, he pushed me away, panting. He looked horribly pale – a sickly purple dappled the hollows of his eyes and what were the fine arches of his cheeks now were drawn and gaunt.

"Gods. I have hurt you!" I gasped in horror.

He started laughing weakly, which only served to make him seem all the more ghastly.

"Hardly. Come here and feed me." I knelt down over him, offering my neck. He latched on, those needle teeth piercing me once again, and he began draining me once more.

And so it went, over and over that night. Each time sapped to the point of death, each time revived by the miracle of Godrik's blood.

No rays of sun touched the deep recesses of our hiding place. Blood tears began to stream from Godrik's eyes and trickle from his ears and nose. He explained that dawn had broken beyond the rocky walls of our hiding place and he was not meant to be awake in the day.

"Keep drinking from me, I wish to fight the sun and keep taking from you as well. Bite my flesh as hard as you can and drink. Don't stop biting or I may accidently drain you. The longer we draw this out, the stronger you will be. Come."

He pulled me to his firm, cool chest, but did not offer me a bleeding wrist.

"Bite me. Hard." He stroked a spot on his neck. I obliged, wrapping my arms around his frame.

"Oh gods! Uhnnnnmmm" He cried out, then sunk his teeth into my shoulder. Drinking together in this perfect circuit, I could hear him in my mind and I knew instinctively he could hear me in the same way. I caught snatches of hazy thoughts, and felt like I was drifting through his very soul as I lay there locked in his vice-like embrace. More than anything I felt extraordinary pleasure, coupled with the digging sting of his fangs. This union in the blood was intensely erotic and several times my own orgasmic release washed over me.

I lost all sense of time or place and we lay like this for many hours. At one point I must have dozed off, because he slapped me and ordered me to bite again. Some time later I felt his head slump against my shoulder. I assumed he wanted me to do the same for him, so I whacked him hard and he roused just enough to find the seeping bite again and take hold of it.

By nightfall, my shoulder was screaming horrendously from his teeth and each time he sucked it pulled directly in the middle of my chest. My body felt heavy, deadened, and weak, though nonsensically I didn't feel sick, save for the hot burn of his bite. It was more like the sluggish weight of a deep sleep holding me down.

"Godrik. Godrik. It hurts unbearably."

He looked at me through half-opened, so groggy and disoriented. He slashed his tongue healed the wound.

"You're in rough shape," I offered, truly concerned at the effect this was having upon the boy.

He laughed, rubbing at the dried stains of blood on his face.

"How are you holding up? Your heartbeat is still steady, though slow."

"I can't really move and I'm starving."

Stumbling onto two feet, he brought me a dipper of water.

"Nothing more. You'll just puke it up."

I swallowed it down but it caught in my throat and I sputtered, coughing.

"It doesn't taste so good anymore, does it?"

Hacking, I shook my head. "Blood. Give me more of your blood. I'm so thirsty."

"Ahh…" he chuckled, stepping back and holding his arms out with an impish glint in his eyes. "If you want it, you'll have to take it from me then."

I tried to get my legs beneath me, but they were like wet rope. "At least help me up…"

He offered me a hand, but instead of taking it to pull myself up, I grabbed it and tried to bite his arm. He found this hilarious and effortlessly yanked free, letting me fall on my ass.

He grasped my neck then parted my thighs, pointing to the spot where I'd been stabbed.

"After the neck, the blood flows most freely here." He bit into the sensitive flesh almost meanly, making me cry out. "Never bite into the actual artery. The human drains too quickly and is certain to die. Unless, of course, you intend to give them your blood. Which you won't." He slurped at the wound with several greedy gulps before sealing the puncture with a lick. Then he pulled my wrist towards his razor sharp fangs.

"The wrist bleeds slowly but steadily. It's a solid place to drink from, always reliable and easy to access." I gasped as he took a bite there as well. He nosed the inside of my elbow. "This spot too has good flow, though a little awkward to get at in a pinch." He traced his fingers over my breast, just above my heart.

"There is great pleasure in drinking so near the heart, where the strong pulse sends your meal gushing right in your mouth. Take care, however, if the human is a wiggler. It's easy to snap a fang on a rib. Not fun."

I gasped as he ran a hand over my hip into the crook of my groin.

"Anywhere close to a man or woman's pleasure is delicious at the height of their passion." He licked his lips and released me, just as I felt myself start to become aroused.

"Where else?" I asked, fascinated by his lesson.

"Hmm. Depending how long your fangs are and how particularly vicious you're feeling, you can hit the artery in the belly…here. You'll gorge, but again, it's a death blow." He paused, thinking. "Now, the tongue is very nice, especially another blood drinker's. It tells you many things about the person."

"You drink blood of your own kind?"

Godrik's eyes glittered. "Oh yes, but only occasionally and not for sustenance." He slashed his tongue and leaned in to me, offering it. I hesitated, then let my tongue slide over his and sucked. He sighed through the kiss and gently pulled away.

"Eirikr, are you ready to begin again?"

"Again?" I asked, shocked.

"Yes. I want you to be perfect. We must continue."

"How long…" I whispered, unsure whether I wanted to hear the answer.

"Another full night and day, and another night more. You can take it, I know you can. It will not be easy, but you are strong and my blood is ancient," he replied full of determination.

I cursed and fell on my back in resignation. "Alright. Let it begin, then."

"You may go first." He settled next to me, resting his head on a bent arm. "Just try not to drain me entirely, you bloodthirsty mongrel. I'm only half your size," he teased with the hint of a smile.

Taking his wrist, I went for the spot I'd tried to bite earlier, just to see if he'd allow it now. He watched me curiously and made no indication that he would stop me, so I bit down hard. It took a surprising amount of force to break the skin. Digging my teeth in to keep the bite open, I drank and drank until he started getting that sickly look again. I let up.

"Keep going," he mouthed, eyes closed. I took several more big gulps before he pulled away, looking positively dead.

"This is hurting you too."

"Of course." He shrugged, then rolled me over roughly and sent his fangs singing into my skin.

It went on like this as he predicted. It was grueling, beyond excruciating. By the end of the third night, I was barely clinging to life. I did not know until then that such agony existed; nothing in the preceding nights had ever prepared me for such a trial. My heart lugged in great thuds, in time to each shallow, labored breath I managed to draw in. Godrik's glamoured order to live forced me to endure it.

He, on the other hand, was suffering more greatly than any creature I'd ever seen; in truth nothing living could be alive in such pain. He shook violently as though in a fever and was covered in a sheen of blood sweat. His compact frame had grown so emaciated, it looked like a skeleton wrapped in papery skin. I would have told him as much, if I could speak. In the back of my mind, I knew I should be afraid of him, but I wasn't. I could already feel his own essence stirring in my breast, as if he were a part of me. I only feared now that he might perish in his fervent attempt to transform me.

Finally, trembling, he took hold of my face and whispered into my ear.

"It is time. When you arise you will be the blood of my blood. Good night, Eirikr." He kissed my cheek and said something that seemed like a prayer in a strange language, then bit into my neck, draining me dry. I knew my life was slowly stilling and a felt a white fuzziness take over my vision. My heart made a final lub and then went silent.

It was then that I truly died.


	3. Blood!

**A/N: **Thanks to those of you who have read this new story, added it to your follows, or sent a review. Please let me know what you think! This story contains some **m/m** erotica, so if that's not your thing then don't read it. You've been **warned**.

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I wrenched up, gasping, desperate for air I didn't yet realize I no longer needed. The most noxious stench assaulted my senses. Godrik knelt before me, clapping my back. He had a ferocious grin on his face and his eyes dazzled in amazement, taking me in.

"Arise, my child…" he said, his voice full of wonder.

"The smell!" I gagged. He laughed and pulled me to my feet.

"Come." We went outside into the night air.

A barrage of thoughts assaulted me instantly, zipping through my head so rapidly it was impossible to meditate on any single one of them. As I inhaled deeply, scents of a thousand things sprang to mind. Sounds of creatures rang in my ears from every direction: breathing, stalking things; crawling, gnawing things; chirping, squeaking things. The light of the moon was bright and I could see…everything. Well over an acre to the right, I spotted a deer lifting its head to look my way. Beetles crawled over the bark of a dead log many lengths to my left. I could count every one of them if I wished. The leaves in the trees shimmied happily in the breeze and I smelled…

"People! There is blood over the hills, Godrik!" As though my body had its own agenda, I wanted to run that way. Godrik snatched my hand in an iron grip, refusing to release me.

"You are covered in your death fluids. You will strip and bathe now."

"But…"

"Eirikr! As your maker, I command it. You will go nowhere and do nothing other than what I say tonight. Understand?"

The order knocked me in the chest and I gasped. It was like the gods themselves had told me I'd failed them. Every instinct in my soul wished to please him.

"I understand!" I cried, hurriedly grabbing the bucket and soap from him. I set to work, gagging at the human filth on me. Godrik flung the soiled bedding and loincloth far down over the hillside and took a seat on a nearby rock. He looked remarkably better, though still very unwell.

"Aren't you glad I didn't let you eat your fucking fish sticks now?" he laughed.

I scrubbed like a madman, desperate to remove the overpowering smells. "You had a very good point," I laughed in agreement. "My head is spinning. Everything is moving and alive and in sparkling rainbow colors. It's wondrous!"

"These are your new senses. Learn them well. You will have other gifts too, which will reveal themselves in time."

"Like what?"

"Hard to say just now. Each of us is unique. Let's work on what's obvious for the moment. Go back inside and dress, there should be something in the clothing I brought that will fit you. You will wait there for me, do you understand? I will return with a meal."

My mind was suddenly gripped with a single thought. "_Blood!_" I growled, then jumped in shock at the new animal noise that had issued from my own throat.

Godrik put a firm hand on my shoulder. "If you wait inside, then your maker will reward you. Eirikr? I command it." He shifted his weight nervously, as though he was unsure whether he should leave me.

"Yes, maker. Please. I'm waiting." Too overcome with thirst to be ashamed at sounding like a child, I jogged lightly back to our home base. The cold air on my nude body felt as pleasant as a summer's breeze, but the thought of blood made my skin itch and I felt jumpy, consumed with need. The dry scratching thirst in my throat was torturous.

Inside the cave, I built up the fire as I knew Godrik liked it: bright and blazing. Within moments I realized why. The licking flames dazzled me and danced hypnotically, sending the dancing shadows pulsing around me. It was pure magic – to be dead and never feel more alive.

In the pile of things he'd brought back days ago, I found an especially well-made tunic of black linen with delicate embroidery around the neckline. A pair of leggings were long enough to tuck into my boots and a dark blue wool cape with silver fox fur struck me as appropriate. I found the pile of my old dirty clothes in a corner and went to pull my cloak pin off, but when I touched it a searing pain scorched through my hand, melting the flesh. I screamed in shock, falling flat on my ass, then watched in complete fascination as the skin knitted slowly back together.

"Silver harms us," I wondered aloud. The former wound tingled and my arm felt as though it had fallen asleep up to the shoulder. Realizing that my regenerated body was perfectly fit and healthy, I could not help but inspect myself in awe. Only days ago I was a stinking, oozing, half-dead thing. Now I was a force to be reckoned with!

The crunch of gravel outside alerted me to someone's presence, and I snatched up my sword and took cover in a shadowy corner of the cave. It was only Godrik and he'd brought a man and a woman. They appeared to be in some type of thrall and stared about stupidly with glazed-over eyes.

Godrik sniffed the air and a wry curl of a smile formed at the edge of his mouth. "Already getting yourself in trouble, I see. Come. Feed."

The throbbing pulse of living human blood filled the close confines of the cavern and I crept toward the man. I heard and felt a snick in my gums. I had fangs, just as the demon boy. I touched them in fascination, and shivered at how sensitive they were.

"Who are they?" I asked suddenly.

"They are your food. Now, eat. Bite anywhere I showed you."

"But who are they, Godrik? Will they be missed?"

A dark look passed over my maker and he bit down on the man's neck in a single, savage movement. He pulled away, sending streams of blood gushing down his neck.

My thirst took hold of me and before I could protest at my own body's reaction, I crushed my mouth over the wound, sucking the throbbing life force out of him. I sucked and sucked at the delicious blood, feeling more and more sated and somehow aroused at the same time. I wanted to swallow every ounce of him, to literally consume his life entirely.

"Eirikr." My maker touched my shoulder. "Eirikr, he is dead." He didn't seem at all fazed by this fact.

I managed to pull away, only to be horrified at what I'd done. The man's arms were crushed at unnatural angles and his throat entirely torn out.

"Gods! I…"

"You did what is in your nature to do. But you do not know your strength. Now feed from her. Try not to mangle that one."

"No! I do not wish to kill her!"

"Eirikr, it must be so in the beginning. Control your strength first, then I will show you how to master your hunger. Now, _eat,_" he ordered harshly.

I closed my eyes and listened to the woman's soft gurgling heart. Waalump. Waalump. I found myself caressing her neck. I bit as gently as I could, focusing on the throbbing sound like a metronome. I didn't dare embrace her lest I desecrate her body as horrifically as I had her friend's. She sunk down and I followed her to the ground. Waa-lump. Waa-lump. Her heartbeat slowed, then stilled. I licked at the wound, cleaning it like a pleased cat, then turned on one knee to see Godrik's response.

His beautiful sea-colored eyes were wide and glittering in awe. He stared, caressing my hair and running a hand over my new raiment, before finally whispering, "You are, without a doubt, the most magnificent blood-drinker ever made. So beautiful. So new, yet so very strong. And all mine."

I felt his pride and excitement as though it were my own. We were bonded somehow, and though I knew not the first thing about the wild demon boy, he lived inside me. I could feel his consciousness tickling the back of my mind. His pearly skin shone brighter than the moon and I felt as though the world revolved around him and him alone. I longed to reach out and touch him or perhaps fall prostrate at his feet.

"My maker," I gasped, hoping he could understand the flush of complex emotions swirling within me.

He nodded. His fingers wandered impulsively to the place on my neck where he'd ended me. "Did it hurt?"

I thought back over those long sessions. Being drained was tortuous, true, but without fail he always returned with a gift no one else could or would ever offer me. I didn't even know him and yet he was as certain and reliable a truth to me as the constancy of the sun or the tides. His insistence and relentless determination to make me, fill me, to keep me – regardless of the heavy toll on him…It inspired nothing short of pure hero worship in my eyes. I did not care if he claimed he was no god. He was _my god_. The memory of of being filled by his essence over and over again sent shivers through my limbs. There would never be a greater intimacy as the one I'd felt as he tethered me to his very being.

"You saved me," I whispered.

"Aye. You were worthy, my child."

The burning in my throat distracted me, and I stole an envious glance at the bloodless corpses.

"You are still thirsty."

"Terribly. Will it ever be sated?"

"Yes and no. The hunger will lessen over the centuries, but the pleasure the blood brings you will never end. You will always want it, even if you do not need it. Now, we must be rid of these bodies. Here. For your cloak. It's started snowing." He dug in his pocket and handed an intricately carved gold pennanular brooch to me.

I stared at it momentarily before realizing he'd kept it from me so that I would seek out my own. "You did that on purpose!" I barked accusingly.

"Yes. And what did you learn?"

"Silver burns us. Weakens us."

"Very good."

His passive aggressiveness infuriated me. "You could have simply told me!"

"Yes, but would your fear and respect of the metal's power over us be the same?"

I gave no answer, knowing he was right.

"Exactly. Now, discard the bodies over the cliff."

I recoiled in horror. "No! They deserve a proper burial."

"The wolves and other beasts will take care of them."

"They sacrificed themselves for this… need!"

Godrik hissed. "Get. Them. Out. NOW!"

Every fiber of my being quivered at the hatefulness in his voice. I could only obey and it sickened me as I saw their pale forms clattering down the sheer cliff side. Their shredded and battered bodies lay like disgusting, broken bugs in the ravine below and the fact that I could see and smell their death even at these heights revolted me. I vomited a crimson sheet of fluid at my feet.

Godrik was at my side immediately. "No, that won't do. You need every drop." The fiend stroked my back and I shrugged off his attempt to comfort me. After all, this was his doing. I gave him a hard shove and he stumbled back several steps. I had the distinct feeling he _let_ me push him.

Angrily, I stomped back to the cave and sat on the hard ground in front of the fire, furious. He joined me silently, wrapping his arms around his knees. The graceful architecture of his face made him look so young, yet his knowing eyes betrayed his youthfulness. His beauty was distracting and it only angered me further.

"I thought you did not want a slave, yet you order me about forcing me to do wicked things."

His head jerked sharply at my angry words and he stared at me in an as though my words had cut him to the core.

"What? You don't like that I speak to you honestly?! I am an honest man, a good man. I may have slain many, but never innocents. It is for this that I've forsaken Valhalla?!"

"Enough!" his voice silenced me. "Eirikr, there is only survival or death. All things die, even we can die. What I order you to do is for your protection. Do not test me with your insolence, child. I will happily punish you for it if that is what it takes to keep you safe. But I promise you…" he took my hand, pressing it against his bare chest and looked at me forcefully, "I will teach you all that I know. I promise that I will never abuse my maker's power over you. Father, brother, son. You have my word."

His sincerity burnt deep within me and I looked away in shame. I did not understand this creature, at once so passionate and so cruel.

"I have never made another and I have been alone for quite some time. Forgive me if you find me a poor excuse for a companion."

I considered this. He had chosen me. Only me, above all others. "How old are you?"

"I do not know, truly. Well over a thousand years old. Probably close to 1500 by now. Maybe older."

I was aghast at his confession. "And how old were you when your maker turned you?" I asked incredulously.

"I believe I had lived a score."

"You were only twenty?!"

"Aye."

"Where do your people come from?"

"You are my people now."

"But your family, where did _they _come from?"

"Eirikr, you are my family now. You are mine as I am yours_._"

"But…You are infuriating! Where the hell were you born?"

Godrik sighed deeply and tossed bits of stray wood into the licking flames.

"My people are long dead. They were the ancestors of the Keltoi, far west of here."

"I have heard of them, yes. Not many of the Norsemen venture that way, but we have heard tales of you. But…tell me, you must have seen much of the world!"

"Indeed."

"Have you been in the north country long?"

"Only about 75 years. I've never ventured so far north." Godrik stretched out his legs and gave his thighs a resigned slap. "But alas, this is one of the few places still untouched by those filthy Roman bastards."

I raised an eyebrow at the sudden heatedness of his words. "They possess great armies do they not? My cousins do good trade across the sea with the German clans. The Romans are great enemies of theirs, no?"

"Eirikr, they are great enemies of _mine_. You cannot know what a scourge they have been to the peoples of this world. They seek only to dominate and bend others to their use."

"Have you been to their cities?"

"Yes," he smiled meanly, like a child taking vicious delight in plucking the wings off a dragonfly. "I like to watch them burn. They live to make war, so I like to make sure they get it."

"You are a warrior too, then?"

"I have been a great many things, my child."

"Did they attack your people?"

"Eventually, yes, many centuries after I was turned. But that is not why I despise them."

"Then why?"

Godrik stared into the popping coals of the fire and gave no response. I could feel the turmoil my question caused in him.

"A story for another night, then," I said quietly after a drawn out silence. "Are there many others of our kind? Do we owe fealty to anyone?"

"Intelligent questions. There are very few of us this far north – the long winters and scattered settlements make it difficult to hide. You'll learn this soon enough. We must never, ever be exposed for what we are. But it is ideal for a wanderer like me. I am the only authority here. My age alone demands it."

"But elsewhere?"

"Elsewhere our society can be very complicated. There are rules and formalities in nests, and these you find in the great cities and larger towns. I left Constantinople almost a century ago because the politics – human and blood drinker alike - were getting entirely out of hand. The cult of the dead god they call Christ is spreading like wildfire."

I had not heard of this Christ, but it seemed bizarre that anyone would pray to a dead god. "We will not go there then," I said, not hiding my disappointment. "Where will we go next? What will we do?"

"We will stay here in these north lands while you learn our ways, though far from your people. You must forget them, Eirikr. You are not one of them any longer. You are a_ draug_," he explained, using my people's word for the walking dead.

I held back the choking pain in my throat at the thought of my wife and children, but I was already lost to them as my body lay dying. I told him as much.

"Then you do not regret your decision to join me?"

"No. To die would be a great adventure, but to live forever sounds just as fine."

Godrik rocked over in a peel of laughter.

"Besides, you said we can still die, so I may yet make that journey too."

"But not for many, many ages, my dear child, if ever." The impish boy roughly tousled my hair. His touch made me feel forgiven for my previous defiance. I relished every drop of his attention and above all, basked in the feeling that I pleased him, even though his labile temper and feral nature struck fear into me.

A thought occurred to me. "Silver harms us. What else?"

"The sun will burn us and turn us to dust. Silver or wood to the heart will end us, as will decapitation...usually. We are very susceptible to fire, though impervious to heat and cold. There are other, stranger things, too, that I will teach you to recognize when we come across them – the blood of some unusual creatures can poison us and very rarely humans can carry a sickness in their blood that weakens us temporarily with a sort of fever."

"You said blood from another blood drinker cannot sustain us, but is this true of all things – what of elk's blood or sheep's blood, or the like?"

"Animals?!" Godrik sneered. "That is disgusting! Perhaps it will temporarily slake the most desperate of thirsts, but it would be like a human eating a tree's bark to live. It cannot fulfill your needs."

"I don't know. I'm so hungry still I might just try biting a badger," I said, not entirely joking.

"I wouldn't. It would probably make you sick. You must be careful not to get nauseous again. It's like breathing or blinking – you don't need these useless human reflexes and you will soon outgrow them. But you're a tall man and you'll need a lot of blood in these early days. I should have realized. I'm thinking you'll need more like three or four people a night." Godrik fell silent again, lost in some memory. "Fairy blood is intoxicating though exceedingly hard to come by, but nothing will ever satisfy you like your maker's blood."

Before I could react to his assertion that fairies were actually skipping about the world and that they were apparently fucking delicious, he bit into his wrist and offered it to me. My fangs slammed down instinctively, cutting my bottom lip. The scent of his dripping wrist enveloped and overpowered me, yet I felt deeply apprehensive, as though I was doing something exceptionally wrong. I was quickly realizing my new nature possessed a primal drive to protect him from all things - even myself.

"I may?" I asked, already nuzzling his arm in cradled hands.

"Drink."

I didn't need to be told twice. The thick liquid hit my tongue and I was instantly blinded with pleasure. I pulled at the wound as hard as I could, knowing it would quickly close and heard my own thunderous roars of bliss echo alongside Godrik's sensual moans. I'd never known such ecstasy. I wasn't even conscious of my own actions. I'd pulled myself out of my leggings and was stroking myself and slurping his arm in a bloodlusted haze. Before I knew it the wound closed and I'd splattered a thick jet of my release all over the place.

I cannot be sure how long I sat there, slumped back on my heels, staring wide-eyed at the youthful man before me. There weren't words to express how I felt in that moment. He tasted of divinity - like time and god. I had never even thought such pleasure existed. Everything in my cosmos was reordered and he shone like a dark angel in the midst of it. Godrik simply watched me in curiosity. Impulsively, I moved to kiss him, but he turned his face and placed a firm hand on my shoulder. I pierced my tongue on a fang and offered it to him, imploring him, only to have him give a shake of his head and rise, leaving me where I sat.

His rejection crushed me.

"You don't want me?" I asked pathetically.

He shifted uncomfortably on his feet. I felt tentatively for his emotions in our bond but he was dampening his end. "It's a normal urge. For most of us feeding and sex go hand and hand."

"And what, for you they do not?"

"They do. But I am your maker." A shadow of fear crossed his face, but I didn't recognize it then as such.

"So what? It doesn't feel wrong."

"So give it some time. You may feel differently. You're not even a night old, Eirikr."

"I've had men before. Many offer themselves to me!"

"No doubt. But this isn't some long military campaign away from our women. We will be companions for eternity."

"What's the point of eternity without eternal fucking? If you expect me to be celibate you picked the wrong man!"

Godrik couldn't help but laugh at me. "It won't be long before you'll be able to control yourself enough around humans. Just give it some time," he said dismissively.

Clearly he had declared the topic dead, but I wasn't about to let the matter drop. I was Eirikr! I was a Viking for Odin's sake!


	4. I always was an opportunist

**A/N: **

Thanks so much for all the great feedback! This chapter contains very **MATURE** content and **male/male** erotica (aka slash). If you are offended by such material or it's not your thing, please skip this. You've been **warned**. Thanks for reading and please review.

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**Ch. 4: "I always was an opportunist"**

In the following weeks, Godrik taught me to hunt and track humans and use my extra heightened senses. He challenged me repeatedly with new tasks and I relished the moments when I was able to exceed his expectations. He was an excellent teacher, if not a bit of a madman at times. Like his stint with the silver brooch, he loved creating all kinds of dangerous games and scenarios by throwing me – sometimes literally – into trouble. To be sure, he never actually put me into any situation beyond his control, but it still felt wild and risky. I wasn't a month old when he dared me to go into a village pub, order a cup of ale, and sit for ten minutes pretending to be human. It would have worked until, distracted by a rather voluptuous woman, I took a big swig of beer out of sheer habit that immediately bounced back out as a sheet of blood vomit across the table. Godrik could barely stop laughing long enough to glamour the human patrons. It annoyed me to know end that he took more delight at my failures than in my successes.

"Child, your dick is going to be your downfall," he said as we sped through the woods back to our isolated cave.

"And whose fault will that be?" I spat unthinkingly in frustration. Although I had been relentless, he continued to reject my advances. I was still unable to feed without killing and he knew perfectly well that the thought of raping a dead or dying meal horrified me. My glamour was also not yet completely reliable, so luring willing lovers back to the cave was out of the question. Needless to say, I'd never been so ridiculously horny in my life and I'd certainly never gone this long without someone else giving me a hand.

The waves of fury rolling off of his end of the bond caused me to slow to a jog.

"Oh this is priceless!" I shot at him with as much disgust as I could muster. "You only get angry with me when I tell you something true that you don't want to hear! What maker denies their progeny something as basic as sex!? You won't fuck me. You clearly have refused to help me fuck somebody else. You might as well deny me blood too! You're a shitty fucking maker!" Before I saw it coming, Godrik turned and cuffed me over the head so hard I saw stars. It was the first time he'd ever hit me.

"Fucking Thor's tits! AAAHHHH!" I screamed, blinded by the pain. He'd flattened me with the flick of a wrist. I laid there like a dead codfish in the damp leaves, waiting for the dent in my skull to heal. Godrik stood over me with an indescribable look. His fists were balled and his jaw was set, but a hint of crimson tears welled up in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," I gasped breathlessly, holding my hands over my face protectively in case he struck again. "I'm sorry!"

"No. It is I who am sorry." He turned then and vanished into thin air.

I called after him, but he was gone. A few minutes passed before I started to worry. I was hardly ever out of his direct line of sight, let alone separated from him by any distance. I called to him but knew he was nowhere nearby. In fact, I couldn't feel his location at all.

"Godrik!"

The only reply was an owl's angry screech, disturbed by my hollering. I ran back to our cave at record speeds and was horrified to find he was not there. I waited, trying to keep a grip on my increasing anxiety, daring to venture out in a few meticulous, fanning circles to see if I couldn't pick up his scent, only to be disappointed. As dawn neared, I dug out a soft spot of earth and braced myself for a day alone in the ground. He may not have allowed me much intimacy, but he always let me ball up around him in our day death. This would not be pleasant.

-OOO-

The next night, I awoke by myself only to feel the same hollow absence. Godrik's end of the bond was closed down to the tiniest wheedling spark. It was only enough to know he lived. I had thought surely he would return. But I was still alone! He couldn't possibly have left me for good. Could he?

Cold fear struck through me. I wasn't naïve; only an idiot would think he had mastered the skills needed to survive an eternity. I didn't even know where to find another blood drinker, let alone anything about the strange customs about which Godrik had only obliquely told me. I was a newborn, I reminded myself. I couldn't even feed without leaving a body count! I would not make it without my maker. And here I had run my mouth off to him like a spoiled child!

I _was_ spoiled, I realized. Godrik did nothing but indulge me. He could have been cruel in my lessons, but instead he was playful. He was never pedantic and preferred I learn through firsthand experience. He'd never punished me for my errors, only insisted I get back up and try again. Gods, I was an asshole! The thought that he'd given up on me circled dangerously in my mind and I felt completely paralyzed. I'd never felt as helpless as I did now and I despised feeling so weak. I lay unmoving deep in my earthen grave well past an hour after sundown and let tears slip from my eyes.

A muffled voice called out from above. "Are you going to stay planted down there all night feeling sorry for yourself?" Instantly I shoved an armload of soil away and sat up, still buried waist deep.

"Godrik!" I gasped in relief, feeling him re-open the bond. "Bless the fucking gods you're back! I've behaved terribly. Forgive me! I've learned my lesson."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What lesson might that be?"

Worming my way out of the ground, I fell to his feet, wrapping my long arms around his waist.

"To never take you for granted. You do nothing but try to make this life easier for me. You _are _my life, in every way."

"You give me too much credit."

"No. I haven't begun to give you what you deserve."

He sighed and pulled me to my feet muttering something under his breath.

He made no move to say where he had gone in his absence and I felt I deserved no explanation. We found our meals that night with relative ease. I tried desperately to stop drinking from the drunken traveler I'd picked as his heart began to slow, but only when I thought of Godrik abandoning me again for being such a terrible excuse for a child did my fangs pop back into my gums.

"Look!" I pointed at the pile of filthy human taking raspy breaths. He sauntered over to inspect my handiwork, wiping a smear of blood off his face.

"Hmm. Good." He clapped me on the back. "Now kill him."

"What? But it's taken me this long to figure out how to not kill him!"

"You heard me. Kill him and viciously, too. Destroy him! Never be afraid to be what you are."

"For fucks sake!"

Godrik shot me a look that could have frozen the sun. "I am not teaching you _not _to kill," he hissed threateningly. "I am teaching you to _choose _to kill. Whether and how you end a life must always be in your control; that they die is irrelevant."

I lowered my head in submission and quickly ripped the man's throat out and gorged on what the few gulps of blood he had left in him. I had to admit that feeding with cruel abandon felt wonderful. I was noisily licking my fingers when Godrik caught me by the waist and shot into the air.

I clung to him as the wind tore around us and closed my eyes, thankful that he'd returned and that I could make him proud of my growing self-control on tonight of all nights.

He remained virtually silent the rest of the evening, lost in his own thoughts. Having always been meticulous in my personal grooming when I was alive, the discovery of warm baths had become something of an obsession for me in my un-death. I was bathing from the heated cauldron in a corner of the cave when he finally spoke.

"Forgive me for striking you," he said in a small voice.

I stopped mid-scrub.

"No, I deserved it. I pounded my own children for similar disrespect."

"Do not doubt that I will 'pound' on you, as you say, if you ever again dare to insinuate that I do not take seriously my role as your maker. There is nothing in this world more important to me. But in this case, I hurt you because I was angry and afraid, not to teach you a lesson, and so I ask for your forgiveness."

"Everything you do teaches me something, Godrik. I'm not so proud that I can't recognize when I am wrong."

He snorted in laughter, lightening the mood. "What's that, Viking? Not proud, you say?" he joked. "Easily admit your mistakes, you say!?"

I heaved the kettle over one shoulder and sent a good splash over his head.

Godrik shook out his hair like a muddy dog and shot me an amused look.

"I suppose I am overdue for a bath."

"You stay filthy on purpose."

His mouth twitched slightly.

"Imp," I teased, then picked up the soap and tentatively - giving him plenty of time to stop me -began lathering up his crusty locks. Much to my surprise, he let me.

"I deserved your anger, but what could you possibly fear?" I asked gently.

Godrik hung his head limply, submitting to my attempts to detangle his disastrous hair.

"I'm afraid that in trying to avoid repeating the mistakes of my master I'm merely making another one."

"Tell me," I ventured, knowing we were treading into dangerous territory. Godrik was already a quiet one, but any mention of his past and he would clam up entirely. I had quickly learned not to ask, lest I wanted to spend the entire night in silence. My maker revealed things at his own measured pace.

"It's…not something I like to talk about."

_Well, obviously_, I thought, but wisely kept my mouth shut.

"You were barely out of the ground when I promised you I would never abuse my maker's power over you. I meant every word I said."

"I know that."

"You do and you don't. Perhaps in a few more months I will take you to Roskilde to meet more of our kind. Then you will begin to understand. It might be useful for us both to make a study of maker-progeny relationships so we don't both completely fuck this up. My own experience was…unique...to put it mildly."

The prospect of leaving the rancid cave had me giddy, but I kept focused. "How am I supposed to understand when you're being so obtuse?"

"Use your brain, Eirikr. I can command you to do anything and you must obey. Anything."

My eyes widened in sudden comprehension. "Your maker…" the question caught in my throat.

Godrik sighed deeply and looked up at me from under his sudsy hair. "My master did absolutely anything and everything he wanted to do to me. For 300 years I was nothing more than a sex toy, a diversion, a punching bag, an assassin, a quick gold piece. I was whatever his foul mind wished me to be. And then some."

I'd never felt such uncontrolled rage in my life. Only the tiniest bit of Godrik's anguish leaked across our bond and I was positively out of my mind in the need to avenge him. I went out stark naked into the night and began kicking over trees, hurling boulders, anything to release the anger.

"Eirikr!" he whipped me around by the arm. "I command you to stop this instant! Calm yourself!"

I was panting unnecessarily but I felt his maker's power curl around my will.

"A vampire is never at the mercy of his emotions. He masters them! Look at yourself, huffing and puffing!"

"I'll fucking kill him. Where is he? Is it the dark-haired man I saw in your mind when I was drinking your blood? I'll kill him, Godrik!"

"He's dead."

I howled in frustration and he simply put a hand on my shoulder.

"He is dead, Eirikr. _I_ killed him," he said, looking me straight in the eye.

For a second I thought I'd misheard him, but he held my gaze and cold horror shot up in goosebumps over my preternatural flesh.

"You…your maker?" I gasped in a whisper, clapping a hand over my mouth, incapable of even uttering the blasphemous words. The very thought of harming Godrik made me positively ill.

"I said master, not maker."

I was utterly confused. "Master? You were a slave?"

Godrik dragged me back to the cave, shaking his head at my mindless destruction of the forest around our territory. I knew he'd have me chopping every last twig of it into firewood.

Stripping off his grubby leather leggings, he sat back down on his stool and handed me the bar of soap. It was the first time I'd seen his glorious body entirely nude.

"Finish," he ordered calmly.

All I could think of was someone hurting the exquisite expanse of skin before me, someone forcing their attentions on it. I couldn't bear to touch him. I thought of all the times I'd snuck a kiss on his shoulder or neck before we'd fallen asleep or my shamefully ridiculous attempts to convince him to pleasure me.

"I didn't know…"

"Don't be absurd. Continue."

Reverently I bathed him, as gently as possible. Kneeling behind him I soaped up his back and worked my thumbs in circles into his thick, lean muscles, massaging him as I went. He moaned under my touch and the sound struck deep within me. I dawdled behind him trying to will away my massive erection. I worked over his hard chest, sluicing bubbly streams over his blue tattoos and down the peaks and valleys of his chiseled abdomen. Although dirt doesn't really grind into our impervious flesh like it does in a human's, his feet still required some serious scrubbing since he rarely wore shoes. By the time I was done even they were pearly pink. I went to rinse off the last of the suds on his powerful thighs and calves.

"You missed a spot, Ei."

I raised an eyebrow at this nickname. Eirikr meant something along the lines of "eternal ruler" or "the one prince." Ei, separated from its suffix, bore the sense of being singular or lonely.

"I am not 'alone.' I have you, right?" I asked, hoping he'd promise to never leave me again as he'd done.

"Aye, you do." He shot me a dark, mischievous look before leaning back on his hands and spreading his knees suggestively. I looked elsewhere, afraid his gaze would utterly destroy my attempt at respectful self control. Soaping up my hand, I caressed the glossy curls of hair crowning his manhood then stroked his length and the tender skin of his plump balls. I moved for the dipper of water, but Godrik caught my hand, guiding it back to him.

"That's not good enough. I'm _very_ dirty," he said in a sultry voice that had me clenching my eyes and breathing unnecessarily. He'd never spoken to me seductively and I thought I might explode with over-excitement. A long thread of pre-cum dripped down between my knees to the ground.

I took his flaccid cock in my hand and pumped a soapy fist over it, letting my thumb play on the sensitive underside of his rapidly hardening head. He swelled thickly in my hand.

"Gods! You have _really_ been holding back on me." My mouth was watering at the girthy sight and secretly I was relieved to learn that his body responded as a man's should.

Godrik chuckled softly and raised my chin to meet his eyes with a finger. "Not everyone has to be a blond giant to be well endowed." Before I could avail him with more intimate touches, he rinsed himself suddenly and stood to dry off, leaving me kneeling there in desperate need. I don't know what came over me then, but suddenly I felt like bursting into tears again for the second time in my undead life. I'd reached my breaking point.

"Please, Godrik," I said, barely audible.

He ignored me for a long moment as he blotted himself dry. "You said you have been with men? Tell me about this."

"Well, what do you want to know?"

"How, when, who, how often?" he paused, adding, "Why?"

"Hmm, you sound a touch jealous, my future lover."

"Eirikr," he cautioned, but I swore he nearly blushed at this new term of endearment. Or perhaps it was my boldness that caught him off guard.

I plopped down onto the bear rug I'd stolen to replace the ones we'd lost during my turning. The feel of the ruffled fur against my nude immortal flesh was divine and I rolled onto my belly, trying to think where I might begin."

"I've always been an opportunist, so it's hard to remember all of them," I explained, more than a little boastfully and realizing suddenly that my human memories already felt fuzzy and distant. "As soon as I discovered my body as a maturing young man I think I messed around with most all of our thralls, regardless of gender."

"You mean slaves," he said harshly, making me instantly cringe at my stupid slip.

"Yes, but you know we care for them as our own people," I quickly added, trying to backtrack. "We all slept under the same roof. It's not like the stories I have heard about how things are in the southern lands. We did not trade them like cattle – they were adopted into the family and everyone obeyed the household head. It was better than being killed simply for being in the wrong village at the wrong time." I stopped, feeling like I was digging myself into a hole.

"Go on," he waved me off, uninterested in my feeble justifications. It would take centuries before I would understand his weird, paradoxical sense of violent supernatural superiority and quirky liberalism.

"One of the washer women had a son, Håkan. He was a little older than me and we would sometimes sneak off in the forest and he'd tell me naughty things that he did with other boys in his age grade and touch me. I didn't yet spill seed, but I liked it."

"Who else?"

"Young warriors, of course. We spent a lot of time away fighting Ulrike and we found release with each other, though it was mostly furtive and fast. They would come to my tent, emboldened with drink and making small chat. I could always tell the ones that came wanting more. They'd suck me off or sometimes let me…" I felt sheepish admitting to something that was commonplace among my people but that we didn't ever really talk about.

"I can feel that you are nervous. Are you also ashamed?"

"No. I've just never told anyone before. I don't mind telling you. They liked when I fucked them in the arse. It felt fantastic. I was happy to discover some women liked it too. So tight and hot."

"Hmmm," he responded vaguely.

I wished to Freya he'd turn around so I could see his face, but he merely stood there in the shadows with his back turned, swaddled in the red linen cloak he'd used to dry himself.

"My wife and I would sometimes invite friends to join us in bed. I wouldn't let them penetrate her fertile little womb, of course. She was mine alone to have like that and besides, as royals we couldn't risk her having another man's child. But we had our fun."

"You smelled of many women even when I found you. No doubt you plundered virtually every willing pussy from here to Uppsala as well."

I grinned broadly. "More like Trondheim."

His shoulders bounced in a quiet laugh. "My child is a bit of a slut, it would seem."

"You can see why I've been frustrated," I replied defiantly, without an ounce of embarrassment.

"I should spank you for being so insolent."

Gods! His words went straight to my groin. I swallowed unnecessarily.

"That could be fun," I teased.

"Or incredibly unpleasant," he shot back.

"I suppose that would be up to you," I dared.

He sighed at my stubbornness. "So, who was the first to penetrate you?"

The question caught me off guard. "In my bum? I…I never…"

Godrik whipped around, a frightening, predatory gleam in his eyes. I couldn't help but notice a very prominent tent in the cloak wrapped around him.

"You mean you are untouched in that way?"

"Yeah. I mean, I never…I told you…I've never submitted to anyone...before you," I added. My sense of loyalty to him was an indescribable thing, more than any sense of duty or awe I ever held as a human.

He narrowed his eyes, his fangs running out fully. Taking a deep breath, he turned and began pacing the cave, his footfalls softly crunching in the stray pebbles and gritty granite crumble strewn about the floor. "Eirikr, you are what we call a dominant. Men and women throw themselves at you and you have always been the boss."

"So?"

"So? These past weeks, you have incessantly tried to get me to pleasure _you_. You realize I will always be stronger than you? I will always be the one in control."

I felt ashamed that I had acted so selfishly, especially now knowing that he had been sexually abused. "I want to please you just as much."

"I did not turn you to be my play thing! I turned you because the moment I saw you, I couldn't accept that anything would ever defeat you. Not even death. I fear your interest only comes from your natural obeisance to me as your maker and my own desire for you humming around in our bond, spurring you on to actions that aren't yours. I refuse to advantage of that and have you resent me later."

My undead heart leapt at his words. He wanted me. My Godrik desired me!

I flipped onto my back to better see him. "Maker, look at me." He stopped his pacing and crossed his arms impatiently. "You are right. Death did not defeat me. He _chose_ me as his companion and I am grateful to be at his side. He's an eternally beautiful young man and I am his, body and soul. I want you to claim what is yours, Godrik."

He froze stock still and stared, statue-like.

"Those are…powerful words…to our kind." I could sense something unraveling in him. No, not in him, all around us. It was as though he sighed and filled the world with himself. His strength unfurled into the very air and his presence vibrated louder in me than I'd ever sensed before. I sat up on my elbows, trying to understand what was happening. He'd been using some unfathomable restraint on his powers.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"I have never been more certain of anything in my life."

He dropped the cloak and in a flash was kneeling before me, balanced on the delicate balls of his feet and fingertips, the feral demon gleaming wildly in his eyes. I watched, quivering with anticipation. He cocked his head, pupils swimming black with excitement, and scented me deeply. Then in a blur, he struck at my neck with razor precision, biting into my flesh. Every rough pull drew out my arousal, spiraling me higher and higher. His hands crushed me to him, enveloping me in his delicious scent and velvety skin. I heard myself telling him to drain me, to make me all over again.

All too soon he released me, ruby-lipped and cheeks flushed with a delicious pink.

"You. Are. MINE," he growled ferociously through his fangs, eyes blazing.

I thought my fangs and cock would literally explode at the declaration.

"Say it," he hissed.

"I am yours."

He pounced on me, placing his weight across my lap and holding me down with his impossibly strong thighs. He leaned in and pressed his forehead to mine. "Say it!"

"I am _yours_, Godrik. YOURS. Forever."

"Only mine," he whispered hotly. He pressed a rough kiss on my mouth and exhaled, trying to calm himself. "And I am yours. Always." The possessiveness his quiet words suddenly riled up in me was shocking. It was the first taste I was getting of this aspect of our nature.

"MINE!" I growled into his mouth, claiming it with a passionate abandon.

His tongue worked over mine expertly, while his hands caressed my back and tugged at my hair and wandered across my chest in utter perfection. Just when I thought I couldn't be any further spun up, he suddenly sucked at one of my fangs, sending me into a complete, bucking frenzy. I'd known of course that they were extremely sensitive, but to have someone else touch them...to have _him _touch them with that devilishly talented tongue of his…Well, I was in grave danger of ejaculating without a single touch to my cock. At least I was consoled knowing that my newly transformed body never really tired – a fact I had learned during my extended forays in masturbation of late. If I blew it now, at least I'd have another raging hard-on waiting right in line after this one if I so desired. And Odin's eye, how I desired.

Sensing my state, Godrik pushed me flat onto my back, pinning me down by my wrists. He didn't move for a long moment, waiting for me to regain a bit of control over my overloaded supernatural senses. He was pushing calm at me through our bond and judging by his expression, struggling to rein himself in as well.

"What do you want?"

"You! Whatever you want," I plead, barely making sense.

"You want me to pleasure you?"

"Yes, maker. Please!"

"Then I will pleasure you. Tell me why I choose to do this."

"Because you want me."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "That is true, my arrogant Norseman, but not why."

My mind scrambled, trying to figure out what answer he was trying to impress upon me.

"Because you can. It is your choice."

"Closer."

"Because you are _my_ maker! Mine and mine alone!" I cried out, desperate to satisfy his question. "Because you want to please me, you choose to please me, it is your right to please me and…and…and because you ask me what I want and you offer me your gifts."

He smiled. "Exactly right, my beautiful, perfect Eirikr," he purred into the shell of my ear. "You ask and I offer."

His lips met mine in another searing kiss that threatened my sanity.

"Please," I panted. "Tell me what you want, lover. Teach me how to please you best. You promised to teach me _all _that you know."

He laughed mirthfully, shaking out his locks and giving me a nip on the chin. "My lover is so eager. Such an earnest lover."

He voiced the word over and over, turning in his mouth in amused consideration as though it was a foreign concept. If I thought about it carefully, perhaps it was unknown to me too. Despite my innumerable exploits, I had never really indulged (or thought possible) such unmitigated affection for anyone.

Godrik seemed to pick up on my thoughts. In fact, I had already begun to suspect he could read my mind much more clearly than he let on.

"What does it mean, Eirikr? Blood drinkers do not love, we claim."

"Pshah. Who told you this? I think that person lied, Godrik." How could he deny the surging, torrid emotions that now pulsed so easily in our psychic connection?

He rolled back on his hips, thinking carefully. I could feel him prodding our blood bond searchingly. Perched over me like my personal alabaster god of the night, I was painfully aware that his cock had fallen heavily over mine. A seductive smile ghosted at the corner of his mouth as he hit upon an answer that pleased him. What he uttered took me by surprise.

Our conversations had been, up until this point, clipped and focused on the harsh realities of the world I now inhabited. I knew him to be cold, precise, and deadly. He was a shrewd tactician and a clever, inventive person, not to mention experienced beyond measure. But he had also proven to be given to unpredictable extremes. In one instant, he could be dangerously excitable and playful, and in the next, withdrawn and standoffish. I did not know until that moment that he could be poetic, nor that he saw beauty in anything. More truthfully, I did not understand the magnitude of the potential he saw in our relationship or the enormity of his aspirations in turning me. A lesser man would be intimidated. I took it as a worthy challenge.

"'Love' is a dry, flimsy word, is it not? Let us leave the piddling love to humans, whom inevitably crumble to ash and dust in the blink of an eye. They are all blindly grasping towards their each other because deep down, insignificance is the reigning star in every one of their fates. Words cannot do justice to our bond - what it is, what it will be. Languages will emerge and die while we will live on in every tongue, in every age. In time, we will be all things to each other. Some apparently sooner than others," he grinned conspiratorially, running a hand down my chest and then playfully added, "Lover," pinching my left nipple into a hard peak.

I melted at his words and touch, feeling the passion coursing ferociously through our bond.

He took torturous time caressing my body, memorizing every dip, curve, and line of me with the soft pads of his fingertips. More than a few times he bit me, sinking his fangs into me but not drinking, claiming every inch of me as his. I was growling in need when Godrik bit his palm suddenly. He worried the wound with his fangs, never taking his eyes off me. He squeezed his fist hard over his thick shaft, then, pressing himself against my own length, he stroked us, rocking forward to rub the super sensitive skin under our heads together. I cried out incoherently, nails digging into his tattooed biceps, clinging to him with the last shred of my sanity. We writhed together like this, encased in his strong hands, sliding in his sacred blood. I felt my loins tighten and I knew I was about to be done for.

I managed to gasp his name in warning.

_Bite me! _he called within my mind. I nipped him lightly with blunt teeth, my fangs absolutely unwilling to descend against my maker's flesh. Quickly tearing open a wrist, he shoved it into my mouth as he bit into my neck, completing the circle.

It was beyond exquisite and beyond unsurpassable. It was simply sublime.

I had been virtually blacked out, awash in ecstasy for who knows how long when I finally came around. Godrik was lazily ghosting circles with his tongue across my groin and inner thighs. I was positively covered in seed and suddenly distraught that I didn't get to taste his.

He laughed with a happy abandon I'd never seen him possessed by. Joy actually crinkled at the corners of his eyes.

"We made a mess," he professed. "You'll have to wash me all over again."

I grabbed his wrist and he willingly tumbled against me.

"You smell like the snow before it falls," he confessed, nuzzling my temple. "Of the frozen sea and warm, rare spices, with the softest hint of a summer breeze in an evergreen forest."

My nostrils flared as I tried to pick out his own delicious musky signature – sandalwood, vetiver, and sweet fall leaves. It was difficult because my own scent now strongly bore traces of him too.

"I smell like you now. Do you mind?"

"Always fishing for compliments…"

He kissed me deeply, setting my body on fire once more. The demon boy was positively luscious. I couldn't get enough of his fragrance, his taste, his touch. My cock was throbbing painfully in need. Godrik released me and fell back down between my thighs, where he easily hitched one of my long pale legs over his shoulder and shifted my other knee to expose me. I should have felt incredibly vulnerable, yet I trusted my maker implicitly.

"I do not mind at all that you bear my scent. I want to fill every bit of you with my essence, over and over. You are _mine_." A dark, hungry look passed over him and my skin turned to gooseflesh in anticipation. "Is that what you like, Eirikr? When naughty young boys take you into the woods and whisper dirty, filthy things to you? That is exactly what I've done, yes?"

I swallowed, my throat dry with carnal hunger. The crazed look in my eyes must have given away the answer, because he began whispering the most depraved ideas about what he might do to me. Seeing his delicious mouth utter such filth had me clutching at the rug for some hopeless measure of control.

"Mmm," he half-purred, half growled, and suddenly licked my exposed ass. The sensation surprised me, both tickling and making me ache in need. As he lapped at me, he pressed two fingers to my lips and I trapped them, sucking them just as I wanted to suck another part of him. He withdrew his hand and sliced open the same fingers I'd been enjoying only a moment before. Slowly, taking me further into his mouth, he slipped one digit into the tight ring of muscles at the base of me.

"Oh God…" The feeling was alien and burned for a second but was rapidly soothed by my maker's healing blood. He slid his gorgeous mouth up and down my shaft, down further and further, greedily taking all of my manhood into his throat. I gasped, never having been sucked so fully or deeply. He began working me in a rhythm, swallowing my length and pushing me, stretching me. I grasped the ground wildly, searching desperately for some restraint as he slipped a second finger in and pumped harder. He struck something deep inside of me that had me crying out instantly. I was writhing and incoherent under his masterful touch. Somehow I managed to hear him ask for his "blood kiss" – the very one I'd longed to give him the night I turned. Instantly I had bitten my tongue for him and saw through a bloodlusted haze that he was palming more of his thick crimson juices over his erect member. As he sought my mouth, he pushed at my entrance, sheathing himself deep within me and claiming me as his for all eternity.

He was exceptionally gentle, at least in the beginning, which I did not expect. He slowly rocked his narrow hips against mine, massaging that secret place within me that made my cock leak and beg for more. As I grew accustomed to his width, he began to pull out at a tortuously slow pace and work back into me, teaching me how to receive the battery of amazing sensations he was unleashing on me. Suddenly, much to my chagrin, I realized that I must have been a rotten lover this entire time, jamming my big dick in people and rutting at them like a common barnyard animal.

"Stop?" Godrik asked, feeling my emotions shift.

"No! Sorry," I snapped out of it and dared to grab his firm buns to bring him closer.

"Do not let yourself be distracted again," he chastised, falling over me and pinning my arms over my head. "You will think only of me. Or there will be consequences." With that, he rammed a hard thrust at me.

"Oh fucking gods, do that again!"

He did. And it sent me right over the edge.

We lay together for hours upon hours, to the point that my body ran out of seed for several runs as it struggled to keep up with the rate I was pumping it out. Godrik maneuvered me into an array of different positions, showing me how we might connect our forms together to make love. I was truly surprised to discover how good surrendering to him could feel, even when he took me from behind in an unyielding hold, pulling my hair and demanding that I cry out his name. Normally I despised feeling so open and vulnerable, but this was something else entirely. He freed me to simply feel, experience, and be. Submission, he explained, required far more strength of character, for it was much harder to do. My favorite position, however, was exactly where we'd begun – my arms and legs enveloping him as he was enveloped by me, his muscles rippling with the force of his exertion, his mask of calm lost to the bliss of release with me.

-OOO-

The fire had long ago burnt out and only the softest hiss and pop of the dying coals lit our stony den. I lay tangled with Godrik in the plush brown bear rug, nude and silent. His head rested in the crook of my shoulder and his hand was lost in a tumble of my blond hair. Pressed together, satiated, our bond pulsated with unfiltered expressions of fulfillment and serenity; a happy discourse finer than any words we might utter.

Beyond the walls of our nighttime lair, the first of the larks' songs floated across the early morning, signaling dawn's approach. Godrik stirred minutely, pasting a kiss onto my chest.

I squeezed him tighter, not wanting this night to be overtaken by the sun. Within a few minutes, however, I knew he would pull me up and insist that we dig our earthen grave for the day.

"I hope we never meet your gods," he spoke softly.

"Why?" I asked, confused.

"Because I do believe I've just run afoul of Odin. I've stolen his finest warrior from his rightful place in Valhalla. I expect he had reserved the seat next to him," he replied with an amused grin.

"Well, if we suddenly are attacked by menacing crows, I suppose it will be confirmed. But I think you were fated to find me."

He grunted a neutral response.

Once situated safely in under a thick layer of soil underground, I was nearly asleep when I heard Godrik speak to me in my mind, confessing something far more sobering.

_"You are the first and only thing I have ever had to myself…the greatest gift…" _

_Love. Mine. _I pushed back before succumbing to the sun.


End file.
